Differences
by AsWeAreNow
Summary: A series of oneshots based around the incredibly awkward personifications of states.
1. Knoephla

North Carolina frowned. "Hey, South Carolina, whaddaya say we do something today?" He asked.

"Like what?" South Carolina responded, lazily picking at her nails.

"Well, something other than watching that." He pointed over to where California, New York, and Washington were trying to stop the younger states from killing each other— most notably, Colorado, Alaska, and South Dakota— while Wyoming and Hawaii watched amusedly.

"We could join Hawaii and Wyoming."

"Nah. They need their alone time." North Dakota winked, walking up to them. He stretched. "Who wants to go out and shovel the snow with me?"

"What's it like outside?" Louisiana asked.

"Not so bad."

"Okay. I'll go. Better than watching those assholes argue over mountains for the 43,800th time."

"Hey, be careful. One of those assholes is my lil' brother." North Dakota chided.

They walked outside. "Crap! It's freezing out here!" Louisiana muttered.

North Dakota only laughed. "Nice. Well, I think it's hot out here." He took off his coat, revealing a Vikings T-Shirt and a cross necklace that hanged around his neck. "I'll treat you to some knoephla if you help me," he offered.

Louisiana didn't know what that was, but it sounded warm, so he nodded and continued to shovel the snow.

North Dakota seemed to clear his side quickly, and began to deal with Louisiana's side of the driveway as well.

Many people thought that Colorado was the truest winter trooper of all, but both Alaska and North Dakota rivalled that. Colorado was a bit of a showoff, considering he didn't have any winter coats anymore. North Dakota faced temperatures that were way below freezing, and he was fine with it— but he at least tried to act like a mortal, unable to withstand freezing temperatures ever.

Louisiana had barely shoveled two square yards on the driveway when North Dakota finished off the last of it.

Louisiana chuckled sadly. "Sorry I wasn't able to do much. We don't get much snow, and usually it melts the next day."

North Dakota laughed, hitting him on the back gently. "Nah, it's fine! You did a pretty good job, and you were quite the help! So, you wanted some classic North Dakota style food, eh?"

Louisiana shrugged. "Whatever works for you. Regardless, _laissez les bons temps rouler_."

North Dakota nodded in vague understanding. "Well, I could make it for you, but I'm afraid it'd take at least an hour. How about we go to a restaurant instead?"

"Sure." Louisiana shrugged. He didn't really care. "But... I'm gonna go inside and grab my coat." North Dakota laughed again, watching as the older state went inside before putting on his own coat.

He waited for Louisiana and then began walking.

"It's close, don't worry. It's only a ten minute walk... I think." North Dakota shrugged. "I hope you're hungry, because it's quite a hearty meal."

"I'm glad the snow is gone now," Louisiana said, glancing at their house one last time as they rounded the corner. "California, you know. He can't drive for crap even without snow. He won't run into the house now, at least."

North Dakota chuckled. "Yeah, I guess so."

"But you did most of it. Me, I hardly did anything."

North Dakota shrugged, but didn't say anything. "We're here," he said finally, grinning at Louisiana.

They stepped inside. The restaurant had a warm atmosphere, and Louisiana decided that he liked it. They shared the knoephla meal after it came and Louisiana had discovered he wasn't quite hungry enough to eat it on his own and North Dakota had proclaimed that he wasn't all that hungry anyway.

The pair talked for awhile. Most of the answers to Louisiana's questions were 'not so bad'— which must've been how Louisiana was lured into going outside.

It was nice. Very nice, Louisiana thought; much better than watching the little assholes argue.

**I decided to write this because I realized that I haven't written about half the states. So here ya go; North Dakota and Louisiana. I really don't have much of a reason for these two, though there are some weird friendships within the states. I figured that they don't really have to have a relation outside of sports, do they? After all, they're two parts of the same country. Anyway, a review would be wonderful! Thanks for reading, and have a great day!**


	2. Good Ol’ Bluey

California shivered as he got into Colorado's car. "Damnit, Colorado. Why do you even have that demonic thing? What is it even called?"

"Demonic... what?"

"The horse. The blue horse. What is—,"

"Oh, you mean Bluey!" Colorado laughed. "Yeah, cool, isn't he?"

"Bluey?"

"Well, we call him Blucifer 'cause of the red eyes, y'know. He's officially called 'Blue Mustang'."

"Okay, but why do you have it?"

Colorado shrugged without looking away from the road. "I don't know, actually. But isn't he neat?"

California shuddered— that is to say, he shivered dramatically until Colorado noticed and turned on California's seat warmer. "Sorry. I always forget how cold this place gets," even though it was hot outside.

California had taken theatre or whatever when he went to college. To be honest, Colorado hadn't even paid attention. Nothing against theatre, it was just... he wondered if theatre made California dramatic or if California had made theatre dramatic. Regardless, California was dramatic. Maybe theatre was just awfully convenient.

Colorado had chose something much more realistic. He'd chosen to not go to college at all. It didn't seem right to burden the country even more with the student loans of some random kid who would never need to work.

Not only that, but he looked way too young anyway. People would wonder. He'd had to haggle a crap ton just to be able to drive a car. The deal was that he wouldn't get in too much trouble if he got a ticket due to the mysterious circumstances surrounding his existence, but that he would never be allowed to drive again if he did get a ticket anyway.

That discouraged Colorado from driving most of the time. But he didn't trust California with his car, so now here he was.

"Why does it always feel like it's the middle of winter here?" California asked.

"What are you talking about? It's like eighty degrees!"

"It's either you guys are freezing outdoors or you're freezing indoors." California grumbled. Colorado laughed.

Eventually, they got to Colorado's house. California was trying to see what the appeal was to living in the centennial state.

Colorado was trying to get him to leave as fast as possible so he could go back to the American house again.

While California was taking a shower later that night, Colorado went into the guest bedroom and placed a small charm on his pillow. It was a blue horse with red eyes. He'd made it himself, for this exact purpose. He went back to his room.

He heard California's scream later on, and then he put in his headphones and pretended to be asleep as California screamed at him. Eventually California ran into his room, shaking him awake. "Colorado—," _shake_, "the weirdest thing," _shak_e, "has happened!" He showed Colorado the charm.

"Oh, frick. I've never seen this before," Colorado said sardonically.

California didn't catch on. He just looked at the charm as Colorado took it from him. Colorado laughed softly. "Good ol' Bluey." He slipped it into his pocket. "Go back to bed, dude. Everything's good." _If I act like America, he'll leave me alone. _

And California did leave him alone.

Colorado chuckled again and placed the horse charm on his bedside table, wondering if the prank would work more than once on California. Maybe, maybe not...


	3. Aliens

It was a hot Sunday night.

Colorado and Arizona were sitting in Colorado's room, playing video games as Colorado talked about a new fitness app his people had made.

His phone rang. He picked it up— a FaceTime call, actually.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Colorado, hi. It's California."

"I know. I can see you."

California was panting. "You'll never believe what I— Why is Arizona in your room?"

Colorado flinched. His fear was palpable. "Um... I..." He sighed. "I was just— just talking about a new fitness app for working out—,"

California sighed. "You're too much like America," he frowned.

Colorado frowned. "What was it you wanted to tell me?" He prompted.

"So you'll never believe it. I saw... aliens. There's this weird—,"

"Aliens? Did you say aliens? You saw aliens?!" Arizona took Colorado's phone from him, shoving him aside. She was excited, though, so Colorado didn't really mind.

"You saw aliens?" She asked again.

"Yeah. There's like, this glowing cloud, and it's like really big."

"What? No way. Show me it!"

"I don't want to go outside," California admitted.

"Don't be a namby-pamby, California!"

"Fine. Fine!" California went outside. Colorado heard cursing, but he didn't bother to look. If Arizona wasn't worried, he wouldn't be either.

"Woah! No way! That thing's huge!" Arizona said.

"I know," California said nervously. "The power went out awhile ago. Everyone is nervous."

Colorado looked over, frowning. "California, that's... That's the Milky Way."

**I'm on mobile. Please tell me if formatting is weird and I'll try to fix it. I've had this sitting in my drafts for quite some time now, so I figured I would transfer it.**


	4. Swinging

**WARNING: Politics, illegal substance use, depression, and references to sex. Please keep yourself safe. I'll explain why I wrote this later.**

**Rating: M. This by itself is getting an M rating. It's not the happiest of chapters. I wouldn't call it incredibly angsty, but it's not lighthearted. (If you're into politics, you might find Florida's bit either funny or infuriating— it's also a little bit sad. Depends. California's part, though, just gets really depressing, and also references cocaine and sex. It's not really dark but it's certainly not light.)**

**Here's a funny bit. I actually never had to create a new chapter from the browser before, so I had to take about five minutes of sheer panic to figure it out.**

Florida wanted to scream. He wanted to shout and kick and cry.

There he sat, in his yoga class, watching people fighting each other over politics. "How could you possibly vote for the Democrats right now?"

"Because how the fuck could you vote for the Republican candidate? He's a racist—,"

"At least he's not a Dem! Fucking Democrats, dude!"

"What, and all of the New Yorkers dying didn't matter to you? During the coronavirus? Do you remember that?"

"Oh, and the fucking Speaker isn't a bullshit person? What about California?"

New York had screamed at Florida a lot during that time. She'd screamed at everyone a lot, but everyone hated Florida, so him getting screamed at more often was expected. California always argued with him over this, saying that all of the Midwest hated him (except for Colorado, or so California said). Florida still felt like most people hated him, although he supposed that could've been because of how loud certain southerners were.

"Oh, you motherfucker. Get your filthy misogynistic hands off of me!" The Democrat punched the Republican. Granted, the Republican had just tried to grab him.

"Fucking child killer!"

"Hey, guys, guys, let's just stop. Yoga class is supposed to be calming." Florida tried to intercept them.

The Democrat punched him in the jaw. "Oh my god, dude, I'm like, totally sorry! I meant that for Mr. Rebooblican over here, not you!"

"It's fine." Florida spit the blood out of his mouth. Goddamnit, why couldn't he just have a nice yoga class?

The Republican grabbed an ice pack from the freezer (this was a common occurrence) and brought it back to him.

"Thank you." Florida reached for the ice pack.

"Who are you going to vote for— the Democrats or the Republicans?" The Republican asked. Florida noted with something akin to annoyance that the ice pack was not currently numbing his jaw.

"I'm... not sure yet. I sort of forgot about the Democrat candidate until the primaries," Florida admitted.

"Oh." The Republican hesitated for another minute, and then reluctantly handed him the ice pack.

The silence was uncomfortable.

Florida was just starting to calm down, the prolonged adrenaline of being hit fading away. "I mean, I've swung like... four times throughout this conversation. I'll have to go home and do some really good research then, right?"

"I can send you articles!" The Democrat and Republican both spoke at once.

Florida sighed. "No, I'm fine. I think I'll just read some BBC or something."

"Oh. Well, fucking Big Boy wants to shove the government up your ass," the Republican said. "You should talk to me once you're done doing research."

"Well, Mr. Rich over here supports nepotism. As is evident by our recent White House advisors."

"Dude, what party are you a member of?" The Republican asked, turning to him again.

"Me? I'm— I'm an independent."

"Well, yeah. Everyone is... but what party do you follow?" The Democrat asked.

"I'm a registered Republican," the Republican said. "Are you an independent? Guess we know who the traitors are, eh?"

"How about... how about we find something to agree on?" Florida interrupted. "Just to calm down a bit."

"Okay. Fine." The Republican paused. "You know what I really hate? Living here."

"Oh, yeah, totally," the Democrat said. "I mean, my wife wanted our kids to live here, and of course I couldn't exactly compromise. But if I could I would pick up my bags and move to Colorado in an instant."

"Yeah man, fuck Florida. I would've moved by now, but sometimes ya just can't move from where you're born. My parents fell ill when I was in high school. I always wanted to get out of this fucking dump, but I... I never got the chance. My parents are ailing now, so it's only a matter of time, right?" The Republican laughed. "I always feel bad about thinking it, but goddamn. I just wish I wasn't affected by hurricane season... although I'm more of a Wyoming man myself."

"Eh... Well, Wyoming's not too bad." The Democrat smiled, in a classic display of 'please-don't-argue-I-was-only-joking-holy-shit-stop-sharing-your- opinion'. "I'm sorry about your parents."

"What do you think of Florida?" The two turned to Florida.

"Oh... Florida?"

"Yep. The state we all share at the moment."

Florida shook his head. "Hate him— I mean, it. Sometimes there's nothing you can do, though, right?"

"Well, that's no way to think," The Democrat said. "There's always opportunity for change!"

"Sometimes there's not," Florida said hesitantly. "It's just... Well... I've lived here my entire life, you know? I love this state, but these days I find that... well... I just don't love it like I used to. I wonder if I'm never going to be as happy as I was when I was a kid. But there's nowhere else for me, so I can't help wondering if I've already lived the best part of my life, and I'm just not ever going to be as happy as I used to be. I wonder if I'm going to spend the rest of my life reflecting on how happy I was and comparing it to now."

"Okay... but what does that have to do with living here?"

"Eh... nothing, I guess."

Florida's ice pack was starting to leak, and he supposed he'd overstayed his welcome. The instructor was looking at him weird, stopping from his fast-paced scribbling of 'N O POLITICS' on the white board. Everyone was staring at Florida.

Florida just wanted to disappear. What the fuck was he saying? After all, he hadn't even been American for most of his time as a kid! He was pretty sure he hadn't had it as bad as Massachusetts, or any of the thirteen original colonies— apparently they, along with America, had all sustained some sort of trauma— and therefore he ought to be fine. Sure, he'd been happy, but wasn't he happier now? What if he'd only been happy because he was an innocent little kid?

Florida sheepishly excused himself and left.

Florida, of course, got stuck in traffic. He went home to find that all of the people on his block had yard signs for the Democratic candidate, which put him in a bad position. If he didn't put a yard sign up now, it'd look bad, but if he put one up for the other candidate, it'd look even worse. Normally Florida might not care, but he was rather desperate when it came to social matters.

He opened his door and went inside, falling into the comfort and safety that only a strong A/C could provide.

Florida hated election season. Seriously, hurricane season and then— and then what, a month, maybe three, of respite, and then it was election season every couple years! It sucked!

Most of the other states didn't have it as bad as he did. In fact, a few of the other states hated him just because of how important he was. They said he ought not to be depressed (Hawaii), that America loved him (Wyoming) and everyone wanted him on their side (Vermont), that he was lucky he was so fortunate (West Virginia). Florida still felt like shit anyway.

Even worse, he felt like he couldn't go back to his yoga class.

Florida ended up sleeping the next eighteen hours.

(Linebreak.)

California was straight up not having a good time.

Here he was, sitting in something that a state like fucking Florida would consider Heaven. No risk of swinging. California was safely nestled in the 'love' of one party. He couldn't imagine being like Florida, hated by all but desired all the same.

That didn't mean that people left him alone. By all means, there were always issues. Almost all of the Midwest hated him, including Colorado, which was fairly difficult to deal with. Everyone else hated him, too, just less so. California didn't get what was wrong with him. Even the Democratic states hated him! Didn't they agree on things?

That wasn't even the worst part. No, the worst part was just that California was not having the time of his life like he'd always thought he would. People would ask him to protest and take to media to share his opinion, and California... couldn't. He couldn't do it. He just wanted to chill out, have fun, be loved.

He could let that go now. For just a bit.

California had found a new outlet: Comedy. He sat there, fingers itching around a bottle of water. He stood, watching anxiously, trying to ignore the people snorting cocaine a few yards away from him. California had been shocked when he'd first gotten into entertainment and had seen so many people wiping their noses, shaking off their credit cards and keys— but he was used to it now. He should've been, at least.

California paid attention to the current performer's jokes. He couldn't help the poor souls in his life. God, this performer sucked. A lot of people in the audience were laughing, but mostly the performer was rolling off dad jokes. California was powerless, but it wasn't his job to help people— _help them, help them, they're your citizens—_

"Thank you, everybody. You've been so awesome. Have a good night." The lady stepped off and gave him a curt nod.

California smiled and stepped onto the stage, put his water bottle next to the podium. His mind went numb; all he was aware of was the crowd, staring, waiting. They wanted to be entertained, and he couldn't do this.

"Hey, everybody. It's a pleasure to be here; to see all your absolutely dazzling faces. I love Los Angeles." California kept a grin plastered to his face.

The audience laughed at this. "I know, I know. Los Angeles fucking sucks." More laughter. "But, you know, I've lived here my whole life, and sometimes shit just doesn't change."

He proceeded to zone out for the next five minutes, and then his bit was over and he stepped away.

"You did great, bro," the owner said.

"Did I?" California laughed, but he was feeling a bit shaky and he ended up just going home.

The drive home sucked. California didn't know what New York thought, or Florida either, but he knew what he thought: he would give up everything and restart his life from scratch if only to put an end to Californian traffic in a good, reasonable manner.

His phone rang. He almost jumped, and then turned the radio down and answered. "Hello?"

"Hi... Dude, could you show up to the rally tomorrow?"

"Sorry?"

"You know. The rally."

"Oh, right. This is kind of late to be asking, don't you think? I mean, it's six in the evening. I was just—,"

"So will you or not?"

"Yeah, of course."

...

California showed up to the rally the next day. California hadn't been sleeping well recently, and had actually intended to use today to catch up on work and sleep. Maybe go grocery shopping too; he had little in his apartment.

Instead, here he was. California almost regretted this, but he knew he would've felt bad if he hadn't shown up. He supported this cause, after all.

He hadn't slept last night, either. At all. Instead he'd used last night to go grocery shopping and catch up on work. If cities never slept, California shouldn't have had to either.

Maybe it was just him, but even though he'd lost sleep to come here it seemed as though his friend group, which hardly liked him at all anyway, was mad at him. They weren't really including him in the conversation. California was always just there because of the connections he had. California was one of those motherfuckers that somehow knew everybody, and that was useful.

It wouldn't be too surprising if they didn't actually like him and just wanted him there because of his influence. That was how it always was. California knew that if he disagreed with anything they said he'd be a lost cause to them. They'd give up on him, instead going to all of the people he knew. California was easier, but not very worthwhile, apparently.

...

Even if they didn't really like him, they still invited him to a party afterwards. 'That's showbiz, baby,' was the first phrase that came to mind.

...

California woke up the next day with someone in his bed. His lungs hurt and his mouth was dry, so he headed downstairs.

He caught his reflection in the window, and quickly shut the blinds. Apparently he'd had a nose bleed at some point. Even if he didn't really remember what happened, he was surprised that someone was in his bed, then. After all, successful sex was hard to come by at after parties, depending on what you took.

He made breakfast and kept on with his work. When the woman he'd slept with came downstairs, he offered her breakfast and a ride home. California waited patiently for her to finish eating. Apparently it was her car in the driveway and not his, so he just told her to leave.

**Okay, now for the exciting reason for why I wrote this: I don't know. Really. It was supposed to be funny and then it wasn't, and then it was more of a rant, and then it went straight to depression and drugs, as a lot of my writing tends to. And then I got too attached to it, for whatever reason, to not publish it. Originally, though, this was very, very political, and just a 'funny' bit about Florida's suffering as a swing state. I had to tone it down a bit, and then the words just kept tumbling out. I hope I didn't seem too biased. Florida and California both go through events in this story that are inspired by real life. Not necessarily my life; just shit I've read. If you did read this, thanks. **

**Also, I'm sorry for such an unhappy chapter. I will probably be writing a chapter on West Virginia soon— as you might imagine, it's not going to be too positive. There will probably be more additions like this in the future, but I'll try to not let angst consume me. There'll still be happy chapters as well. Regardless, a review would be very wonderful. Have a good day**.


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